Ijuswannachill Lyrics

We gonna rock a little something like this" -- Repeat 4x)

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill

And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

Sitting and thinking about the time I wrote four stacks of rhymes

For dimes, made me wanna go back to doing crimes

On the corner, but the street life? Hotter than a sauna

So I don't think I'm gonna, plus the fact I was born to

Nigga to hit the land with the mic in hand and

SP and hit it like (huh) Dizzy Gillespe

And this is how I do, not three or two

But one nigga from Queens for the hip-hop fiends

All over, gas a honey up to let me unclothe her

And this time around check how I get down

As I go the extra mile, raised in Carlyle

Born up in Harlem, ever since been destined for stardem

So move over bacon, it's the anti-faking

Beatmaking nigga that makes the Earth quake and

Let the man push through, others are left without a clue

Large Professor in the house one two

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill

And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

About as deadly as a nine, hit a rock man kind

Like a landmine with the ill shit that I design

Professor, keeping sucker chump crews under pressure

Like this girl I know, but yo, I can't stress her

Cause I'm cool like that, matter fact even cooler

Opposite of sun ruler, having nothing to do with Arula and Keena The Large Professor - Ijuswannachill - http://motolyrics.com/the-large-professor/ijuswannachill-lyrics.html

You can catch me joyriding on Cocina

As I keep the compotition mind up in between a

Rock and a hard place, and just like a car chase

I'm action packed with the drama of Scarface

I'm real, honey'll hit me off with a meal

And I'm out so I can get me a stout, what's it all about?

Trying to stack off a contract, Jack

And stay black, as long as I can keep that intact

Ain't a damn thing stopping the one that keep ya hopping

Do you wonder what I'm dropping?

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill

And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

So strap up for the return of the brother that earn

Props, but this time, I got to get more burn, hops

So record company man, please give me a push

So I can swing to higher levels of life like a kids and wife

And I'll deliver, for a while I didn't give a

Frustrated for fucking with the snakes that slither

But nevertheless, in 3-D's Large Profess

With what I would call a bullshit-proof vest

And yes, I make the beats you could feel in your chest

And write the rhymes that reflect a young man blessed

With the mind and motivation hitting your station

Coming back to attack off a ghetto vacation

For the hip-hop nation

I don't wanna ill